


26/02/2019: When the Snow Melts

by pop_incognito



Series: 365 Drabbles [57]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Centaurs, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Nymphs & Dryads, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 13:24:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18917908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pop_incognito/pseuds/pop_incognito
Summary: Natsuya has waited by Nao's tree since the first day the snow melted





	26/02/2019: When the Snow Melts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [donguris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/donguris/gifts).



> I was supposed to publish this like six weeks ago but I got distracted and forgot about it. This was inspired by a beautiful drawing by Donguris, which you can find [here](https://twitter.com/Donguriiiis/status/1106374929711136768), please go check it out!

Light rain wets the trees, silver leaves dipping closer to the ground as water beads at their tips, and Natsuya shakes his tail, rainbow drops flying off in every direction as he stamps a hoof on the damp ground. He stretches his arms high over his head, flicking his tail again, and he jolts in shock when his hands brush the leaves and knock more raindrops down, cold splashes on his nose and bare shoulders. Spring has arrived in a shower of rain, a pale pink sky, and mist so fine the sky spiders must have woven it themselves. Natsuya smiles up at the slowly rising sun and sighs happily.

After weeks of returning to this same spot, today is the day the trees wake up, he can feel it in his blood.

The valley, full of tall silver trees that sleep during winter and bloom in the spring, is home to Natsuya’s herd, his small family of four just a fraction of the number of centaurs who reside in this peaceful place of magic. As a foal, Natsuya would play in the narrow stream that flowed past their little hut, and when Ikuya was born, the brothers would spend hours chasing each other through the slender trunks. Those days would often end with Natsuya making his way back home with Ikuya’s tiny body sprawled out on Natsuya’s back, their parents waiting with food and flank brush to get the dirt out of the boys’ fur.

“What are you thinking about?” a gentle voice whispers, reedy and familiar, and Natsuya’s lips curl up into a smile before he has even opened his eyes.

Hands reach down from the leaves over his head, milky fingers combing through Natsuya’s hair until the centaur wraps his hands around bird bone wrists to pull the dryad from his tree. Nao falls gracefully into Natsuya’s arms as his naked body appears from the bough stretching over Natsuya’s head, silver leaves and tiny iridescent flowers swirling around him in the breeze as his willowy form settles against the solid muscle and warm, bare skin of Natsuya’s chest. The dryad’s hair touches the forest floor as it spills down his back, elegant vines the same pale purple of the stones lining the riverbeds, untouched since he returned to his tree for winter.

“I missed you,” Nao says, wrapping his arms around Natsuya’s neck and holding on as the centaur starts to walk away from the tree. “It felt like this year’s winter stretched on far longer than usual.”

Indeed, frost still crunches under Natsuya’s hooves, the blades of grass still coated in frozen dew from the night, the sun’s light not yet strong enough to set them free. Natsuya has been waiting by Nao’s tree since the day the snow melted and the branches grew heavy with budding flowers, and he is so happy to see the dryad that he can feel his hearts thudding against his ribs, human quavers and horse crotchets. “I missed you more,” Natsuya replies, dipping his head to nuzzle against Nao’s papery cheek, the same rippled pearly-white as the bark of his tree. He walks slowly through the grove towards the little house the two shared for three seasons a year. “It gets lonely without you.”

Their house is made of pale stone, in the shadow of the great arching trees of Nao’s ancestors, with a door hand-carved by Natsuya himself from several branches of Nao’s tree that were broken during a storm, maple leaves and vines lovingly chiselled into the golden wood one bright summer week when their courtship had only just begun. Natsuya has to duck his head now to cross the threshold, having grown even taller since they built the house, and Nao laughs brightly, pressing his face against Natsuya’s shoulder to hide the sound when Natsuya flushes. Smiling wryly at the dryad, Natsuya sets Nao on his feet and busies himself picking grass out of his hooves before he tracks it onto the plush rugs on the floor while Nao reacquaints himself with their house, running his hands over all their treasures and trinkets from the years spent together. Nao dresses himself, the blue tunic carefully washed and maintained by Natsuya over the winter so that Noa’s clothes would not smell like dust and damp oak when the dryad put them on.

Retrieving a knife from a draw of utensils, Natsuya trots up to their palette bed and folds himself down on the padded wooden base that makes up his half, chestnut legs bent and neatly placed as he waits for Nao to accompany him. Nao’s half of the bed is an elevated mattress stuffed with dry, fluffy moss that Natsuya replaces each year in the summer, and Nao spreads himself out on it happily for several minutes, stretching his elegant limbs and wiggling into the plush blankets. He revels in the feeling of the soft material on his skin, the lovingly washed and weaved wool of his tunic, Natsuya’s warm hands rubbing heat back into Nao’s frigid skin still covered in dew.

“Cut my hair,” Nao breathes out, his head lolling to the side as he stares at Natsuya with his grass green eyes as his hair fans out over the bed in long, curling tendrils. As beautiful and ethereal as it looks when he walks through the trees, flowing in the wind with leaves and flowers threaded in the glossy strands, the length and weight of it is a hindrance in everyday life. There is only so much relief that thick braids can bring. “Please?”

Natsuya runs his hands through Nao’s hair and nods. “Of course, my spring blossom,” Natsuya replies gently, picking his knife up again.

Nao sits on the edge of the bed as Natsuya gathers his hair into a smooth queue down Nao’s back, the centaur’s gentle fingers combing through the vines until he is satisfied that everything is neat and knot-free. Natsuya works with quick cuts of the knife, shearing the heavy weight of Nao’s hair off to the dryad’s shoulders and then a little bit higher, gathering the excess up in his arms and trotting outside to leave it for the birds and other animals to use in their nests. When Natsuya returns inside, Nao is shaking his head and laughing happily, running his hands through the shortened strands and relishing in the freedom of not having his head tugged down.

“Am I beautiful?” the dryad asks with a little grin, peeking out at Natsuya from the hair still covering his eyes.

Sliding his fingers through the fluffed-up mess, Natsuya reveals Nao’s face and kisses his love deeply, so in love with the feeling of Nao’s lips curling up into a smile against Natsuya’s own. “You’re always beautiful,” Natsuya says, still cupping Nao’s face in his hands. “I love you.”

Nao wraps his arms around Natsuya’s neck and holds him tightly. “I love you, too.”

When the sun starts to set, Nao climbs up onto Natsuya’s back and the two ride to the edge of the forest, where the walls of the valley give way to flat grasslands and the sparkling oasis of a lake that feeds the stream bubbling past their hut. When summer comes, the centaur herd will move out onto the plains to mate, some breaking off to create their own herds and search for their own place to call home. Only last year, Nao and Natsuya had stood by the lake and waved goodbye to Ikuya as the dainty teal centaur had followed his gryphon mate away to the mountains. Nao winds his arms over Natsuya’s shoulder and nuzzles his cheek to Natsuya’s as the centaur steps out into the open so they can watch the sky burn gold and the stars start wink to life.

“How lucky am I,” Natsuya murmurs, “That my perfect mate bloomed out of the tree I was born under.”

Nao kisses Natsuya’s cheek, their eyes fixed on the sky above. “And I will continue blooming out of that tree, so long as you are there to catch me,” Nao replies softly. Hopefully, in the morning, the last of the snow will finally melt, and it will truly be spring.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and leave kudos, come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/IncognitoPop) if you want!


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